Academy Days
by its-amagicalplace
Summary: S.H.I.E.L.D Agent Phil Coulson is less than impressed when he is made Supervising Officer to a new rookie - one Melinda May - who proceeds to turn his life upside down. AU.
1. Chapter 1

Phil Coulson sat back in his seat and sighed. Tomorrow wasn't going to be a good day, he could tell already.

He leaned his head against the wall behind him, watching the ceiling fan spin lazily round in circles. Right now it was almost 9pm, and he was nursing his second pint of cold beer in a local bar, alongside his friend and fellow agent, John Garrett. The two had just finished their day at the academy overseeing the training of lower level recruits, when Nick Fury, academy leader and all round S.H.I.E.L.D legend, had called Coulson into his office and proceeded to inform him that as of 9am the next morning, he was to become Supervising Officer to a new agent who was transferring from another academy. Phil had tried to ask questions, to protest against it, to find out who they were and why they were transferring, but that was all he was told. Fury dismissed him without another word, and he had no choice but to leave.

He didn't want the task of puppy walking a rookie. Not really. Training agents in general was okay. But one-on-one supervision? Not his style. He had joined S.H.I.E.L.D with the intention of rising through the ranks, and one day running the organisation. He enjoyed his position as of current – he was a level 4 agent, he was on decent pay, and he was in Fury's good books most of the time. The latest mission he had been a part of had gone well, and the rest of the ranks seemed to both like and respect him. Which was probably why he'd been chosen to do this in fairness. But even so.

"Look Phil, puppy walking? It aint so bad" Garrett told him, having to practically shout over the volume of music blaring from across the bar. "I did it for a few weeks last year remember? The kid was okay really."

"John, he accidentally shot himself in the foot on his first week" Phil reminded him. That was one story that would go down in S.H.I.E.L.D history. The rookie kid, a twenty year old Thomas Jackson, had been so nervous when reloading his gun in his first 'Weaponry and Utilisation' class, he had somehow managed to pull the trigger just holding it by his side. Poor kid was never going to be allowed to live it down. Which was probably another reason this new trainee had been assigned to Phil, not Garrett.

"Yeah…well…it was a learning curve for him wasn't it?" John replied, slapping him on the back with a laugh and heading off to get another round in.

Phil watched him disappear through the crowds of fellow agents, trainees and strangers, and thought about what he was going to have to do. Puppy walking a rookie meant showing them the ropes. Usually they were inexperienced in the field. He would have to teach them to fight properly, and how to defend themselves, ensuring they also kept up with all their academia alongside their practical skills. He would have to take them on their first mission, and all whilst remaining professional and unattached.

He dropped his head into his hands with a groan. He already was on half and half supervision of Agent Clint Barton, a level 3 kid and notorious prankster, but with an exceptional talent for archery. The kid had an excellent eye for targets, and could hit a moving bulls-eye with an arrow from almost 100 metres away – and he was getting better. Coulson was assisting with his training as Barton's own SO had been taken ill recently, and he was having enough trouble as it was sorting him out with his pranks. Only last week the first floor toilets had been flooded with blue water, and Coulson knew all too well it was Barton. He'd seen the dye on his shirt and had had to try and cover it up before Fury found out. If a rookie messed up it reflected poorly on for their Supervising Officer.

Like he needed another agent to watch too.

Garrett returned with their third round, having spent the last ten minutes chatting up one of the bar girls, and Phil decided it was to be his last for the night. Like he needed to be hung-over the next morning too.

"You cheered up yet?" John asked, plonking himself back down opposite his friend.

Phil grinned at him and took the beer. "A little."

"Oh you'll get over it, besides –" John took a gulp of the golden liquid filling his glass and winked at him. "Maybe you'll get lucky and it'll be a cute girl."

Phil rolled his eyes. Romantic relationships within S.H.I.E.L.D, regardless of age, experience or rank, were against the rules. Full stop. Feelings created issues, especially when out on the field. Even one-night stands were considered problematic. An emotional attachment to another agent could easily result in somebody acting rash, calling something wrong, or leaving a target unmarked in order to look after the person they cared for.

"And maybe they'll be the perfect student, with full marks in every class, never putting a foot out of line, and they'll already be fully trained." Phil shook his head. "But you know John, I just don't think I'm that lucky."

He downed the last of his pint, and stood up. He wasn't really in the mood to get drunk along with Garrett, and he knew full well his friend would stay for at least another few hours.

"Right, I'm off. I'll see you tomorrow sometime I guess."

He had a very strange feeling that the next few months were going to be hell.

He had no idea both how right, and wrong, he was.

* * *

_Please review and let me know what you think. I have around 20 chapters planned out so far, but it will probably be more. So yeah, you're here for the long run ;)_

_I don't own Marvel or AOS or anything to do with it etc._


	2. Chapter 2

Phil stood in the office of Nick Fury, academy leader, and sighed. It was 9:30am, and he'd been in there for almost half an hour discussing his new rookie. Who was nowhere to be seen. The night before he had slept an irregular sleep; he had kept dreaming of physically having to take his rookie for a walk on a lead, like a real puppy. After a few hours he had given up, and spent the early hours drinking coffee and filling in paperwork. The life of a S.H.I.E.L.D agent.

So far, all he had learnt from Fury, was that his new rookie was female, and called Melinda May. That was it. Fury seemed to be completely restrictive of the details he gave to Coulson, which was starting to annoy him. He also wanted to know why he had been given this task, and not another agent who didn't already have a rookie under his wing.

"Why me Sir?"

"Because –" Fury paused and turned from the window to face him, looking at him carefully. "I trust you."

Phil had not been expecting that as the reason, but he couldn't deny that it gave him a small sense of pride. If Nick Fury trusted him to do a job, then maybe he wouldn't be as bad at it as he feared?

"She's not as rookie as you'd think Coulson" Fury continued quietly, walking back across the room and sitting in the large leather chair behind his desk. "She's level 2 at the moment, and as you are currently working with Barton, who is level 3, I thought that the two of them training together could work well."

"Sir, with respect, I have no real experience even mentoring one agent, let alone two."

"I just want you to show her the ropes here. She's transferred from another academy up north, so she already has the basics."

"And when you say transferred" Phil asked, a niggling feeling in his mind. "Does that mean she switched voluntarily or she was thrown out?"

"It means I am neither at liberty to or willing to discuss this matter further with you." Fury switched to a tone suggesting that the matter was closed. "You are to be her Supervising Officer, and that is final."

Phil knew the conversation was over, and so turned and opened the door.

"Where can I find her, Sir?"

"She should be down in the training room."

Phil nodded once, and vacated the room, closing the door quietly behind him. Everything Fury had told him was confusing. Agents didn't just move academies for no reason. Not when they had already progressed to level 2. Why would they? And the fact that Fury had been so vague about it suggested that maybe there was something underlying which he wasn't being told.

He entered the lift, watching as the doors slid closed behind him, and pushed the button for the basement. The training room was underneath the academy – it was sort of like a large gym, split into multiple rooms each filled with different kinds of fitness equipment, from treadmills in one, to dumbbells and various weights in another. He tapped his fingers impatiently against the rail as he waited for the lift to complete its descent from the top floor. He was slightly less annoyed at being SO now that he knew she wasn't completely inexperienced. Level 2 was good. Level 2 was just below Barton, and if Fury was right, the two could be trained up through the ranks together. Maybe she would even be able to make Barton see the seriousness of S.H.I.E.L.D and somehow get him to tone down his pranks. It would be fine. Really, it had to be.

The lift pinged to announce its arrival onto the training floor, and as he stepped out he could hear cheers and whooping coming from the room at the end of the hall. He groaned internally. That was never a good sign – he knew from his own days here that crowds only gathered when something big was going on. As he reached the door however, he peered round it and was met with a sight he had never seen before.

The younger agents were all stood around watching a couple sparring on the mats in the middle of the room. One was agent Natasha Romanoff – a young Russian girl who had joined the academy the previous year. Barton had been on a mission alongside some higher level agents to track down a target believed to be working both sides. They had found Natasha. And rather than take her out, Barton had somehow managed to convince Fury to let her stay at the academy, where they could help her to use her skill set for good. How he'd managed to do that, especially as he'd only been level 2 at the time, Phil did not know, but it had worked, and she was here. She was also at the top of her game and her year, and others (Phil included) were quite rightly intimidated by her. She'd make an excellent agent one day.

But the person who drew his eye the most, was the one she was sparring with. She was a petite Chinese girl, maybe in her early twenties, and Phil had never seen her before. He somehow knew without having to ask that this was his new rookie. He couldn't help but stand back to watch in awe. Nobody took Romanoff on - she always won and everybody knew that. But here she was being met with an equal force. The two were mesmerising as they went for each other, dodging and landing hits in an almost choreographed way. It was like a fluid dance of war. For the first time in a while, Phil wasn't 100% that Natasha was going to win. And that was saying something.

"Alright Coulson?"

Phil was pulled from his thoughts by Clint Barton, who sidled up next to him with a grin.

"She's not half bad is she?" he said, nodding his head towards the couple on the mats. The two stood back again to watch as Melinda knocked Natasha to the ground and attempted to pin her, before being thrown off and somehow landing gracefully back on two feet. "May, she said she's called."

That confirmed Phil's suspicions that this was his new rookie. He had to admit, he was impressed. She was nothing like he had pictured; she was young, slim, and, from where he was stood, pretty. She didn't seem strong enough to take down anybody, but the ease by which she was throwing Romanoff around the floor suggested she'd had previous training. And good training at that. If she was the same in all other skill areas, Phil didn't think puppy walking would be too bad after all.

"I've been assigned as her SO, so you'll both be working together for a while."

Barton looked at him and grinned.

"Awesome."

The two agents continued to watch the sparring in front of them for another five minutes, before it ended abruptly when Romanoff finally managed to pin May to the ground. Okay, so as usual, and as expected, she had won, but it had been close. Closer than any match a lot of people had seen for a while anyway.

As the crowds began to clear away, Phil made his way over to speak to his new trainee, and for some reason found himself feeling slightly intimidated by her. Which was ridiculous, obviously.

"Melinda? Melinda May?"

She met his eyes with a wary glance, and nodded her head carefully in response, brushing her fingers through her dark silken hair. She didn't even look like she'd broken a sweat.

"I'm Agent Phil Coulson, I'm going to be your SO whilst you're here."

She nodded again, before slowly glancing him up and down, taking in every detail of his appearance. He swallowed, feeling slightly like prey must do to a predator.

"I…um…I assume from that performance you've already had training?" He wasn't sure why he even bothered to ask the question. It was obvious she had.

She simply smirked slightly.

"I know how to fight if that's what you're asking."

"I can tell." The level of skill she had shown…that wasn't just S.H.I.E.L.D training. Everyone here had been trained the same, but there had been something in the way she'd moved across the floor that told him she'd also had other experience. Experience not taught at S.H.I.E.L.D. He remembered Fury being cagey about her past, and he pushed the thought to the back of his mind for the time being. "Whilst you're here we'll work on everything else too. As your SO it's up to me to ensure you're fully prepared for all future events and missions."

Once more she just nodded. Phil couldn't help but notice that she didn't speak a lot. If he hadn't just watched her fighting then he would have guessed she was just shy or nervous, but he knew she wasn't. He glanced down to see her watching him carefully. She met his gaze and held it until he got a twisting feeling in his stomach. She had the most beautiful eyes he'd ever seen. He then wondered where the hell that thought had just come from, and quickly tried to push it right to the back of his mind, where it belonged.

"So" He cleared his throat and forced himself to look away. "Um, yeah" he stuttered. He was the higher level agent here yet somehow he felt like she was in complete control of the situation. "We'll work on defence, weapons, academia and…everything else really."

"When do we start?"

"Let's say, 6pm tonight. In here. And I'm also currently acting SO to Agent Barton -" he gestured to where Clint was stood watching them, who waved cheerfully. "So he'll be joining us."

"Okay."

Her tone suggested the conversation was over, and that thought was confirmed when she simply nodded at him for a final time, and walked out of the room. He watched her leave.

He wasn't sure what he'd expected from his new rookie, but she certainly wasn't it.

* * *

_Thank you for the positive reviews guys! Hope you enjoyed this chapter :)_

_I'm ignoring certain canon aspects for this story too, hence Natasha is there._

_As usual, I don't own AOS or Marvel etc._


	3. Chapter 3

_Quick note that as it's an AU I'm giving them present day technology._

_I don't own AOS or Marvel etc etc._

* * *

When Phil arrived at the training room at 5:55 that evening, he half expected to find his new rookie already tackling Barton to the ground. After the performance he'd seen earlier that afternoon, he was almost looking forward to the session. It had been impressive, he had to admit that, and he was interested to see how well his two rookies would work together. Barton was good. Very good in fact. He could hold his own and was improving every day. And from what Phil had witnessed, Melinda was exceptional; slightly more fluid in her movements and slightly less forceful. He'd been thinking about it all afternoon, and had come to the decision that the two could really learn from each other's techniques.

But upon entering, he found only Barton in there, stood leaning against the side wall messing around on his phone. He had some kind of dopey grin on his face. Probably texting Natasha thought Phil with a sigh. He knew how close the two of them had become since he had basically saved her life. They were best friends, if not more, and it constantly niggled the back of his mind that they couldn't cross that line. As his SO, Phil felt like it was probably going to fall to him to talk to them about that one day. To make sure they understood – no relationships between S.H.I.E.L.D agents.

"Where's May?" asked Coulson, making his presence known as he shut the door behind him.

Barton jumped slightly and put his phone away, and Phil almost rolled his eyes. He could tell by the almost guilty look on the guys face that it more than likely had been Natasha he'd been conversing with. Phil also realised that Clint needed to work on hiding his emotions better, that was for sure. It was no use being on a mission and a target being able to read every single feeling on your face.

"Dunno, I've not seen her since she almost beat Tash" he replied casually, strolling over to the middle of the room, where Phil had begun to set up the mats.

Phil frowned and glanced at the clock. She was going to be late if she didn't arrive within the next few minutes. Not that this was any sort of official lesson, more just out-of-hours practice, but even so.

"Right, well, in that case we'll just start as usual then."

He checked that Barton had wrapped his hands, and the two proceeded to discuss and demonstrate a certain move they had been practicing in the previous session. Barton was great at his archery, and had perfect aim, but in his sparring sessions with other agents he often leant his weight too far to one side, knocking his balance right off. It was something Phil was hoping to help rectify.

* * *

It wasn't until ten minutes later that Melinda strolled into the room, dressed in leggings and a baggy tee, not looking at all concerned that she was late to her first training session.

"You're late" Phil said, standing upright and walking towards her slowly, trying his best to sound stern, despite the fact she was yet again somehow making him feel ever so slightly intimidated just through a look. He was her SO and damn it he was going to be in control this time. "I thought we said 6?"

She stopped in front of him and raised an eyebrow, glancing at the clock.

"It's 5 past."

"Not the best start really is it? You might have missed something important."

"Did I?"

Phil glanced around at Barton, hoping for some reassurance, but he was just watching the exchange with a slight grin – which he quickly hid when he saw Coulson looking.

"Well…no" Phil stammered. "But that's not the point…"

She just shrugged. "I'm here now aren't I?"

He stared at her some more. She didn't seem at all bothered, and was acting like he was overreacting. Was he? Phil wasn't sure. He knew she didn't need the training really, but he would have thought she'd at least act like she cared.

"Well…next time, be here on time."

She nodded at him with a slightly amused look, and proceeded to wrap her hands without being asked.

"Right then." Phil felt flustered. Again. He turned to find his two rookies side by side, sharing some sort of glance he felt sure was about him, and was struck by the very weird thought that they were both only a few years younger than himself. He didn't exactly feel much like he was at all qualified as any sort of teacher. "You're both going to be working on attack tonight. How to take down your opponent in the quickest way possible."

"I think May already knows how to do that" Barton murmured.

"Doesn't matter. You both have different techniques which you are each going to learn from. So, taking down an opponent fast and effectively. Any ideas?"

"Shoot an arrow through their head."

"Say you don't have your bow with you or you're out of arrows?"

"Could always just kick them in the balls?" Clint suggested, shooting a glance at Melinda, who, to Phil's dismay, smirked back in agreement.

"Well…you could, but I'm not teaching you that." Phil looked at him sternly. Or tried to anyway. He wasn't feeling too good at being authoritative. "What I mean is, taking your opponent out in a way they don't see coming. If you just kick them you'll only temporarily disable them. And that wouldn't really work on a female assailant anyway. What you need to do is –"

Before Phil even had a chance to react, Melinda had moved in front of him and knocked his legs out from beneath him. He found himself flat on his back on the mat within seconds, staring up at the ceiling slightly winded, and a little dazed. Clint gave a barking laugh, and he distinctly heard the two rookies high five. He groaned as he regained his senses and climbed back to his feet.

_One Barton was enough. Like he needed two of them._

He stood and looked at May, and she stared back with a completely deadpan expression.

"Something like that, Sir?"

She was good. He'd have to give her that.

"Erm, yes, May, something like that."

She smirked again.

The next two hours were spent with Phil attempting to instruct his rookies how to perform certain take-downs and how to carry out particular attacks, whilst they completely ignored him and sparred as they wished. Barton hit the ground multiple times, thanks in part to his weight still being placed too far onto one foot (not that Coulson hadn't tried to show him otherwise), and partly due to May and her lightning fast reflexes. She seemed to know her partners move before he had actually made it, and Barton hadn't been able to pin her once – not that he seemed bothered. By the end of the session, the two were joking around like they had been friends for years, and it was difficult to believe she had only been at the academy for one day. It looked like May was having a hard time keeping a straight face.

At just gone 8pm, Phil called the session to an end.

"Okay, that was really good. Apart from the bit where you ignored everything I said."

The rookies smirked at one another.

Phil groaned internally.

"We'll meet for another session this time next week, and until then, Clint please work on the balance thing?"

"Yes'sir" he replied, throwing his hand up in a mock salute.

"Good. And May?" He turned to the newest agent. "Make sure you're on time in future."

"Yes'sir" she answered, mimicking the salute Clint had given.

Phil didn't know whether to laugh or cry. He couldn't cope with two rookies with sass.

"You can both go. I'll see you soon."

"Bye boss" replied Clint, a grin on his face as he pulled his phone back out of his pocket and set about texting again.

The two headed out of the room, leaving Phil alone with his thoughts.

One day it had taken, and he already knew that either Barton was going to be a bad influence on May, or she was going to be a worse influence on him. Neither option was appealing.

* * *

"Hey Mel?" said Clint, as the two stood just outside of the room. "Me and Tash are heading down to Jackson Street with a few others to this new bar that's opened, you wanna join us?"

"Sure, sounds good" she replied, glancing back at the door behind her. "Give me ten minutes?"

"Okay!"

With that, Clint bounded off down the corridor and outside, and May turned around and headed back into the training room. She found Coulson folding the mats up and putting them away at the side of the room.

"Coulson?"

He looked up in surprise at her return. She didn't seem so cocky now she was on her own, and he momentarily wondered if it had been because she was actually nervous.

"Yes?"

She stared at him for a moment, and seemed to change her mind about whatever it was she was going to say.

"Do you…need a hand?" she asked instead, gesturing towards the mats that remained.

"Sure, thanks."

The two spent the next quarter of an hour working together to clear the rest of the equipment off the floor and stack it neatly at the side of the room. He watched her as she moved – the mats they used for sparring upon weren't exactly light, but she had no trouble carrying them on her own. That again made him question how much stronger she was than she looked, and what level of training she'd actually had in the past. He could see the muscles in her arms tensing and flexing as she lifted each mat, and had to force himself to look away before she caught him staring.

"So…what made you transfer to here?" he asked, partly out of curiosity and partly to break the silence.

"Conflict of interest with my old SO" she replied, shrugging slightly.

"Oh?" He knew there was more to it than that. "Conflict how?"

"We just...had a slight misunderstanding one time, and after that she refused to teach me." She glanced up at him, a trace of amusement lingering in her eyes. He wanted to ask what had happened, but before he got the chance her phone began to ring, and she answered it.

"Clint? Yeah, relax I'm still coming, I'll be there in a bit."

She met Phil with an apologetic look as she hung up.

"Sorry, got to go. Are we doing any other training this week besides this?"

"Yes, we'll meet a couple of nights a week. In fact, I have a timetable in my office for you of when and where we'll meet. I forgot to bring it tonight."

"That's cool" she replied. "I'm heading past there on my way out anyway, shall I grab it?"

"It's locked."

"You got a key? I can just give it back tomorrow?"

He looked at her. An internal debate now rallied through his head – to give her the key or not. Something niggled in the back of his mind that this could be a very bad idea, but he was unsure why. Probably had something to do with the fact she was becoming fast friends with Barton.

She could obviously sense his conflict, and she shrugged.

"Okay, well if you don't trust me with it then you can just try to find me tomorrow or something instead."

The downcast look on her face made his mind up for him, and he reached into his bag and handed her the key. She smiled properly for the first time that day, and he immediately preferred it to the smirk she'd given him so often already.

"Thanks, I won't lose it, I promise. See you tomorrow!"

For the third time that day, he found himself watching her as she left the training room.

* * *

It was only later that night he wondered how she had already known where his office was.


	4. Chapter 4

_This chapter is mostly filler, but I wanted to get something posted to keep up the momentum._

_As usual, I don't own Marvel or AOS or anything like that..._

* * *

Melinda May couldn't deny that she actually quite liked this academy.

She had only been there for one week, but already it felt more like home than the previous place, and she'd been there for almost two years. It was hard to explain.

She'd shown up at her new S.H.I.E.L.D Academy on that first morning as a student, and had been mentally prepared to hate every minute of it. She'd stood in Director Fury's office for nearly half an hour, being given the low down on where places were, and the classes she would be taking, and was informed that she would be assigned a new Supervising Officer. All the while he spoke to her she had been internally debating with herself why he only had one eye, and how long it would take before she could work out a way of going back to the old place. Maybe she could pull some kind of stunt or prank and get kicked out? Regardless of the method behind it, May was determined that by the end of the day, she would be in that room again and he would be reassigning her to her old SO and everything would be back to how it normally was.

Despite the fact she didn't enjoy the last place that much, whilst she was there she could work through her training and get things done without any hassle from others. She could get her work done without any distractions, and in fairness had been improving slowly, but she would've rather been sparring or out on a mission that stuck in a classroom taking notes. Academic was just not who she was. And anyway, she hadn't really had any friends to socialise with outside of classes either – which came with the territory when you proceeded to put a fellow student in a coma on your first week just by using your fists – but that didn't bother her too much. Being overly sociable had never been one of her personality traits. So the fact that some of the younger students (and even a few older ones) often avoided her or gave her funny looks wasn't really of any concern. The only person she had been close to had been a fellow outcast called Jasper, and the two of them had gotten into some deep shit when they had turned to pranking their superiors out of boredom. The final straw had been when they had rigged their SO's office air conditioning so that when it was turned on, it blew thousands of tiny, pink, heart-shaped paper confetti pieces across the room. It had only been meant as a joke after May had seen the SO getting felt up by another teacher – how were they to know that when she switched it on she would inhale some of it and almost choke to death? The prank had seen them dragged up to the academy leaser, who informed them that they had crossed a line, and one would have to transfer. And as it was May who seemed to be less settled, she had been left with no other choice.

And hence she ended up where she was now.

On that first day, she'd shown up prepared to hate it. She never even had the chance. She had gone down to have a look at the training rooms and see if there was something she could do to let off some steam, when she had overheard a couple of fellow students discussing how "nobody could ever beat agent Romanoff in a sparring match". Apparently she was "too good". May had smirked. She'd heard of Natasha Romanoff from students at her old academy – a girl who had originally been a target, but had been convinced to change sides, she was building a formidable reputation, and would one day make an exceptional S.H.I.E.L.D agent. Unfortunately, the group had seen May smirking and had called her over. They'd realised she was new when she'd asked which one of them was Romanoff. A slim redhead had raised her hand to identify herself as Natasha, and May had somehow managed to end up offering to spar with her. Always a masochist. They'd all laughed, and told her she had no chance, so she'd simply climbed to her feet in silence and walked to the middle of the mats in invitation. It hadn't been planned. What she hadn't anticipated was the actual thrill of taking Romanoff on, of seeing the surprised and grinning faces around her as people took in the fact that she was actually surviving. Afterwards, people told her she was good – very good. Whilst May knew she could fight – she'd had plenty of practice at it over the years – she rarely got the chance to take on somebody at a similar level to herself, and it had been almost…fun. They'd been matching each other move for move, like a practiced dance, and she had almost forgotten what it felt like to enjoy herself whilst doing that.

Meeting her SO Phil Coulson had been interesting too. He was nothing like her old one – Lesley had been miserable and strict and seemed to lack a single humorous bone in her body. Phil on the other hand seemed…well, like a pretty decent guy. Friendly. Almost sweet if she was being honest with herself, and surprisingly he was only a few years older than they were. Apparently he was an agent with great potential, and was quickly rising through the ranks both in terms of ability and responsibility – hence he was her SO. She had actually felt a bit bad that her and Barton had been messing around in their first training session so much, especially when she had knocked Coulson to the ground with a smirk. So, she'd returned afterwards to apologise to him. Before she got the chance though, she saw the wary look on his face as she entered the room and had changed her mind. May couldn't lie; it was a bit fun being seen as slightly intimidating to people, so she wanted to keep that up just a little while longer. Instead she offered to help pack things way. He'd asked her some questions about why she transferred, leading her to realise that Fury had kept his word about not telling everybody the reason she moved was because she nearly killed her last SO, which she appreciated. But then she had asked to borrow his office keys and he had looked at her with such distrust on his face that she had wondered whether he did in fact know all about her past already. She returned them the next day regardless, good as new, and had resisted the urge to touch things in his office. Although she did had a good look around. Just for future reference really. And it appeared that her friendly but professional SO had a slight fascination with a certain Captain America…

That first night, she had gone to a local bar with Clint and Natasha and another agent called Maria. They'd got talking, and she'd found out that Barton had a huge reputation as a prankster – which May immediately grinned at. They ended up having a great night laughing about all the pranks he had pulled here, and some of those that she had pulled back at the old school. After a couple of drinks, she told them about the confetti incident, and Barton had roared laughing, and before she knew it they had decided to team up in the future if they wanted to prank on a large scale. They all seemed like her kind of people – they liked a laugh, enjoyed training, but didn't take things too seriously. And they didn't seem too bothered by the fact she was slightly quieter than them. She often liked to listen, rather than be centre of attention – she always had – but with them she'd been all too happy to join in.

She had soon forgotten all about her plans to get sent back to her last academy.

Instead, she'd continued to spend her free time with Clint, Natasha and Maria, and was slightly surprised that she already considered them her friends. Her training with Coulson had been going well too, although she couldn't help but mess around in the sessions at every opportunity. Barton was like the male equivalent of her, and they just clicked, much to Coulson's apparent annoyance, so the two of them spent every waking hour debating what their first team prank would be. And they already knew who their target would be…

It had been a week since she had arrived, and for the first time in a while, Melinda May actually felt like she had found a place to belong. And that was quite nice.


	5. Chapter 5

"Mission starts early Tuesday morning" said John, setting his empty pint glass down against the varnished wood of the bar. "So I've only got a few days to prepare for this one."

"And they're sending you in with just one other agent?" asked Victoria, frowning slightly over her large glass of red wine. It was the same colour as the lipstick she wore, and Phil was pretty sure she was only drinking it to seem classier than himself and Garrett. John nodded in the affirmative.

The three of them – John, Phil and Victoria – were spending their Saturday evening in a local bar, discussing the latest news from their respective academies. The three had known each other since they were students in their first year together, and had been on several missions together as a trio, but ever since Victoria had moved to another academy a few months back to become assistant year leader, the group had made it a compulsory task that they met at least once every few weeks to keep up with the latest goings on – if only to keep each other sane. SH.I.E.L.D could be a crazy place to work sometimes, and they often found a need to de-stress over a couple of drinks.

Phil zoned out of their debate, and found himself surreptitiously watching a group of younger agents across the room. Barton and Romanoff were amongst them, stood side by side, and Phil frowned as he watched Clint place his hand on Natasha's lower back, and she leant up to whisper into his ear. Damn. He was really going to have to have a word with those two about how close they were getting. His eyes drifted across the group they were with, and he recognised a couple of faces – Maria Hill (a promising agent who he had only heard about in passing from Fury), James Brickwell (a talented marksman, possibly heading for some kind of firearms specialism), and Sophie Lancaster (most likely to be working in the science side of S.H.I.E.L.D). On the side-line of the group, and not quite integrated into the conversation as much as the rest of them, was his new rookie.

She was in a skin-tight navy blue dress, which stopped just above her knees, displaying both her curves and her muscles clearly, but not in an overly suggestive way. It left her looking tough, toned and feminine all at once. She had her dark hair loose and resting around her shoulders, and was smiling. He swallowed. Phil knew he should look away, start paying attention to whatever it was Victoria was saying now, but he couldn't keep himself from staring. She looked beautiful. He'd only ever seen her in her work-out things, but this…well, he couldn't really focus on anything else but her legs.

She turned and caught his eye, almost as if she knew he'd been watching her, and gave a small smile. He froze momentarily, a feeling of guilt rushing over him, before he returned the smile, and found himself doing a ridiculous little wave too. She smirked at that, and with a slight shake of her head, returned her attention to her friends. He quickly put his hand down and scolded himself internally.

"Who's the pretty young thing?" John asked with a grin. Victoria looked over too, and Phil knew where this was heading. He felt himself flush slightly, like a child who had been caught doing something they shouldn't. He knew why too; he shouldn't have been thinking about her like that.

"Oh erm, that's May" he replied, as casually as he could muster. "She's my new rookie."

"May?" Victoria asked, her attentions now directed solely at Phil. "May as in Melinda May? Transferred the other week?"

"Yeah, how did you…?"

"She was at my place before she moved! Never taught her myself or came across her before mind…hadn't really heard of her until the incident."

"What did you hear?" Phil couldn't deny he was intrigued. And an incident? She had to mean the reason she'd been transferred.

"You don't know?"

Phil shook his head. "Fury wouldn't tell me anything."

Victoria looked like she couldn't decide whether she thought it wise to go against Nick Fury's wishes or not, but in the end decided that Phil would probably find out anyway.

"Only rumours really, it wasn't my year and I didn't know much about it" she glanced back over at the group, who were now laughing and joking at something Barton had said. "Some sort of prank. Apparently it went wrong. Her SO, Lesley somebody I think, she ended up in hospital" Victoria continued quietly.

"Seriously?!" Phil asked, shocked, his mind reeling at this new information. He knew pranking was just part of academy life – all agents either were the victim or the instigator for at least one during their time – but to put somebody in hospital through it? Even Barton had never gone that far. "She told me they just had a conflict of interest."

John snorted as she continued.

"Yeah, well, I'd say it was quite a bit more than that. I don't know how serious it was mind you. But it was bad enough that she was made to leave."

The three of them sat in silence for a few moments. Phil knew now why Fury hadn't told him. If May had put her last SO in hospital, and he had known that prior to taking the job on, would he have wanted to be her new one? He wasn't sure. But somehow he knew she couldn't have meant any harm. Not really. At least he hoped.

"According to the local gossip -" Victoria said, brushing her hair out of her face – she had blue streaks running through it this time, but was always changing it – and adjusting her glasses slightly, "- your little rookie is notorious for causing chaos, so I'd keep an eye on her you know?"

"I think Phil's already got his eye on her" John muttered with a sly grin.

"She's amazing" Phil said before he could stop himself. The two looked at him with matching smirks, and he felt the tips of his ears heat up. "I mean skill-wise, when she is fighting and sparring you know? That sort of thing –" he found himself babbling. "She almost took down Romanoff the other week too" he added, knowing that would redirect their attention.

Victoria raised her eyebrows in surprise, and John let out another low whistle.

"Romanoff eh?" Garrett muttered, watching May appreciatively across the bar. Phil wanted to glare at him, and didn't know why. "Well, she definitely looks kick-ass, and very fit…if you know what I'm saying eh Phil!" He clapped his friend on the back with a hearty laugh.

"John!" Phil spluttered.

"What? Like a man can't appreciate a beautiful lady?" he winked at Victoria. "What you say Vic? Fancy a bit of that?"

"Wouldn't say no" she smirked.

"That's my girl."

John grinned and high-fived her, before calling in another round for the three of them as Phil groaned inwardly. He liked his friends, but they were both so outgoing and extraverted, whereas he…well he wasn't. The other two would stay here drinking all night if they could.

"How's it going with Izzy, Vic?" Phil asked, desperate to change the subject to anything else. He'd only met Victoria's girlfriend Isabelle twice, and the two had seemed really happy, but she hadn't mentioned her in a while and he did genuinely wonder if things were working out.

"Oh it's fine I guess…" Victoria replied, taking the bait and changing the conversation. "She's just been promoted up in admin you know? But now she's working even longer hours…then again so am I…we haven't seen each other all that much recently..." She sighed and smiled slightly to the barman in thanks as he placed another wine in front of her.

"Well," said John loudly, "If it doesn't work out, I'll have you Vic" he winked.

"In your dreams, sweetheart."

"Every night."

The two clinked glasses with a grin, and Phil rolled his eyes. He let his gaze drift back across the bar, only to find, to his (surprising) disappointment, that whilst Barton, Hill and Romanoff were still there, Melinda had disappeared.

_Get a grip of yourself Phil_ he told himself exasperatedly, as he looked away again to refocus on his friends. They were now back to discussing John's upcoming mission. _She is your rookie, and you need to stop letting these two put ideas into your head._

A small voice however told him that those ideas were already there, and they had nothing to do with either his friends, or his semi-drunken state of mind.

* * *

_As usuaul, I don't own Marvel or SHIELD or anything..._


	6. Chapter 6

"Do you want another drink Tash?" Clint murmured to the red-headed woman stood next to him. The bar was loud, but they were close enough that he didn't need to speak up much. They were very close in fact. Saturday nights plus alcohol seemed to remove a lot of the inhibitions they had about physical contact whilst actually in the Academy during the week.

Clint placed his hand gently onto her lower back, brushing his fingers against the skin exposed by the split of fabric on her dress, and Natasha shivered slightly.

"Do you want another one?" he murmured into her hair, indicating the empty glass she held in her right hand.

"You trying to get me drunk, Clint?"

"Of course not ma'am" he smirked.

"Well…" she paused, and angled her head slightly to look up at him. "Maybe you should."

He stared into her eyes for a couple of seconds, both of them unblinking. He had to mentally remind himself that they were 1) in a crowded bar, surrounded by people they knew, tutors included, and 2) they were training to be Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D – which meant no physical relationships with colleagues. He forced himself to tear his gaze away before he did something stupid. Not that he would have regretted it if he did. But instead, he cleared his throat, and asked around the group to see if anyone else wanted another drink.

He turned to ask May, however when he glanced over, he could see she was already occupied. She was smiling almost…sweetly at somebody across the bar, and as his eyes travelled to where she was looking, he was surprised to see that Phil Coulson was the person smiling back. He looked again at May, and then back to Coulson. Coulson was now doing some idiotic little wave, and May had swapped her smile for a smirk, and something in his mind registered that the silent exchange seemed slightly…private? He tried to look away before May saw him watching, but he was too slow.

"What?" she mouthed at him, all trace of smirk gone from her face.

He shrugged, and glanced towards Coulson, before walking across to the bar. May watched him for a few seconds, before following. The two stood amongst the large noisy crowd of fellow agents, all waiting to be served.

"He seems pleased to see you" Clint said, in a matter-of-fact kind of manner.

She rolled her eyes.

"He was just smiling."

"He never smiles."

May raised her eyebrow at him in slight surprise. "Never?"

"Well," he grinned again at her. "Not like that, no."

"That being..?"

"Like… it was specifically _you_ he was happy to see."

She elbowed him in the side as they reached the front of the queue. Clint ordered in another round for all of them.

"And," he continued to her once the barman had turned away, "You seemed quite happy to see him too."

"I was being polite."

"Of course you were."

She looked back up at him as they waited for their drinks.

"Don't worry; he won't be smiling for long."

"Wait…what do you mean?"

"You'll see" she replied, a smug look on her face as she turned and walked off.

Pushing through the crowds around them, she left the bar alone, stopping only briefly to say goodbye to Natasha and Maria as she did so. Clint watched her leave, wondering what she was up to, and why she was going now of all times – the night was just getting started after all! He'd seen that glint in her eyes before however, like she was determined to prove him wrong.

As the night went on, and the drinks continued flowing, the conversation faded from his mind.

* * *

"Working up a good sweat there Coulson" Clint grinned sideways at his trainer.

"I don't sweat" Coulson replied with even breaths. "I glisten."

"Oooh, sassy," Melinda smirked.

The gym was the location of their current training session. It was early the next night, and dotted around the room were various agents and their SO's. Every agent coming up through the ranks was subjected to regular fitness testing. These tests had to be passed, or else the agent in question would receive some form of disciplinary action. If an agent continuously failed, they could be removed from the academy just like that. After all, a high level of strength, stamina and overall fitness were required in order to ensure that a mission could be completed to the highest standard.

There were never any official dates set for these tests, meaning that at any time during the year and agent could be called up for analysis. So, naturally, it was up to them to try and remain in top condition at all times. That meant continuous training, work-outs, and living a mostly healthy lifestyle.

Phil knew his two rookies worked well in their own ways fitness-wise. Barton had exceptional skill at target practice and archery, which came in very handy when attempting to take down a target from a large distance away. He was also pretty strong, and so those activities which required muscle, such as lifting, putting force behind a punch, and holding up his own body weight, he was good at. May was excellent at fighting and sparring, being not only skilled in the actual techniques, but also having both the fluidity and grace to make her movements appear natural. She could also get around without being heard, which he had found out the hard way a couple of times when she had just appeared out of nowhere and scared him half to death.

But one thing they both needed to work on was their stamina in terms of running long distances. So, tonight, Phil had set them up with a treadmill each, and a target of completing a 5-kilometre run within a maximum time frame of twenty-five minutes. If they could run the distance in the time, then they would meet the general S.H.I.E.L.D target. In all fairness, 5-kilometres was a small distance in comparison to what he could be making them do, but as they had all been drinking the night before, he decided to let them off.

They were up to almost twenty minutes into the session, and both his rookies were on track to finish within the next couple. As was he. In fact, he was secretly very happy to be on the same level as them both – the last thing he wanted was for them to show him up.

Phil didn't have a specialism. Some agents became firearms specialists, some became foot-soldiers, and others focused on biology, or technology, or medicine. Phil was an all-rounder, an agent who knew a bit about a lot of things, meaning that he could be called in at any time for a variety of reasons – he'd attended missions where he had to do background research, he had been on some where he was in the field luring the target out, he had taken a couple of hostiles down in the past too. He could work with basic injuries, and he could deal with the academic side, knowing all about the history of S.H.I.E.L.D and what it stood for. But more than that, he was a leader. Agents respected him, and his opinions, so it was no surprise he was rising rapidly through the ranks; Fury trusted him, and relied on him to get a job done.

Once they had all completed their run, he set them up for half an hour each on the cross-trainer, followed by another 30 minutes on the cycle-bike. Training agents could be brutal sometimes, and often left all involved physically exhausted, but it would be worth it at the end of the day if they went on a mission and their fitness worked well in their favour.

Just over an hour later, and Phil was ready to end the session.

Melinda opted instead to stay behind, and do some work on the punch bag. Clint said he would help steady the bag for her, so Phil just shrugged and left them to it. Two and a half hours training was long enough for him. But he had to say, he was pleased they wanted to keep working; it showed determination and a desire to succeed, which was a good thing.

He headed to the showers, stopping off at his locker en-route, removing his shampoo and body-wash as he did. As he entered the shower area, he turned the water onto cool and stood under the stream, allowing the flow to lower his body temperature slowly. It was something of a routine he had – spend an hour or two working out, then have a cold shower, gradually heating the water back up as he cooled off, and then heading back to his office to spend another hour completing various paperwork for the day. He'd been following the same pattern for the last year or so, and in honesty, he was feeling slightly…listless. He wanted a mission, he wanted to get out of the academy and go somewhere with a team and find an 0-8-4, or rescue some hostages, or capture a dangerous mad scientist. Anything. Despite how much he liked routine and order, sometimes he longed for change.

Phil emerged from the showers a good fifteen minutes later, immediately missing the hot water he'd left behind, and shivered as he dressed as quickly as possible. Stepping out of the bathroom area however, he was met with amused looks and sniggers from the agents around him. _What were they looking at?_

He threw his stuff back into his locker, put his towel into his bag, and walked back out into the corridor, where he came face-to-face with his two rookies finally exiting the training room. They both glanced at him, before stepping backwards slightly with strange expressions on their faces.

"May, Barton" he said casually, his heart beginning to hammer as he realised something in their reactions wasn't quite right.

"Agent Coulson" Clint replied carefully, swallowing hard. "Nice hair" he added, clearly fighting hard to keep a straight face.

"It really complements your eyes" May added, completely deadpan.

"What do you -?" Phil asked, a feeling of dread filling his insides. His stomach almost dropped out of his body when he caught sight of his reflection in the glass of the door across from them.

"Shit!"

The two rookies snorted, before trying to cover the sound up with mock coughing fits.

Phil glared first at them, and then back at his reflection with dismay. Every strand of his hair was dyed a bright, almost fluorescent, purple.

"No, no, no" he mumbled, ruffling his hair with both hands in the hope that the dye would just brush away. No such luck.

"Shit" he repeated.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of his two rookies sidling away from him down the corridor.

"You two, wait!"

They turned slowly back towards him, having evened their expressions into something more…concerned.

"Would this by any chance have anything to do with you?" he asked Clint, trying to keep his voice calm.

"I'm hurt that you would even consider it" he replied, pain filling his voice.

"This is exactly the sort of thing you've been known to do Barton!" Phil growled. He moved closer to his reflection and began racking his brains. "It must have been in the shampoo…" he muttered, more to himself than the two snickering rookies behind him.

"You think somebody put dye into your shampoo?" May asked innocently.

Phil turned back to them and looked again at Barton.

"Not so much _somebody_…" he said pointedly.

"When would he have had the chance?" May questioned. "After all, we've been training together all afternoon, so you would have seen if he did anything…"

Phil knew it had to have been Clint. It had to. His locker was in the men's bathroom, so only a guy could have spiked his shampoo, and he had showered yesterday with no problems so it had happened recently. But May had a point – they had been together in various forms of training all day, so when would he have done it?

"What about last night?" Phil growled at him.

"Last night?" Clint said, exaggerating thinking hard. "Ah yes, last night, I was at that nice bar down the road…"

"Napa Bar" May cut in.

"Yeah, Napa Bar, with Mellie here –"

"Don't call me Mellie" she muttered under her breath.

"- And Agent Romanoff, and Agent Hill, and many others as well" he finished, a smug look on his face.

Phil remembered. He'd seen him there. It was a solid alibi.

He sighed, and looked at May, remembering what Victoria had said about her being renowned for "causing chaos".

"Don't even think of blaming me" she said, before he'd had the chance to open his mouth. "I was at the bar with him – you saw me – and I've been here all afternoon. AND –" she added, "- That is the male locker room, so unless you are suggesting I casually frequent men's bathrooms in my free time…?" She left the question hanging.

He shook his head in resignation.

"No, no. Okay, you can both go."

They nodded in unison with innocent expressions, like two children who had just escaped a scolding, and walked away.

Phil groaned.

He knew it could have been any agent really, but the fact he was mentoring two rookies renowned for pranking led him to think otherwise, despite his lack of evidence.

He headed back to his flat, making a mental note to change the combination on his locker, and to buy new shampoo.

And research how to get rid of hair dye, fast.

* * *

_If Phil Coulson thinks a little bit of hair dye is bad, he's going to hate what's coming up... Melinda May has only just started._


	7. Chapter 7

_This chapter contains some medical descriptions/blood mentions, so if you're squeamish/triggered then here's your warning. Btw, the medical stuff is just what I remember from a first-aid course I took a few years ago, so I apologise for any innaccuracies. I don't own Marvel or AoS etc._

* * *

"You did it last night didn't you?" Clint asked, as soon as he got his breath back. "When you left the bar early?"

The two had walked away from Coulson, and as soon as they had turned the corner at the end of the corridor, they'd doubled over with laughter. They were way out of Coulson's earshot now, and Clint felt like they could finally talk about what she had done.

She just looked at him.

"How did you know his locker combination?" he asked, genuinely interested.

"I guessed."

"How the hell do you randomly guess a 4 digit combination?!"

She simply smirked in response. In all honesty, it had taken her a couple of attempts to actually get into his locker. She had tried the obvious code of his phone number, and that hadn't worked, so she had tried his badge number, and that hadn't worked either, and she had been about to enter his birthdate, when an idea popped into her head, and she knew immediately it was going to work. A simple Google search on her phone told her all the information she needed to know, and a few seconds later she was in his locker.

She couldn't help the slight pang of affection she'd felt when the numbers had worked. Her SO was such a dork; what fully grown man used Captain America's birthdate as their locker passcode really? She almost regretted what she was going to do.

"I'm an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D" she answered in response to his question. "Hello, this is what we do." She wasn't going to tell him how she had known – she wasn't sure if Clint knew about Coulson's little obsession or not, and had mentally decided that, for now, she would keep that secret to herself.

He shook his head and grinned.

"So" he continued, as they began to make their way back to their dorms. "How does it feel to have successfully completed off your first official prank here, and not been found out?"

"Oh, it's not over" she replied. "This is only step one."

"How many steps have you got planned?" he asked, excitement brewing inside him. There hadn't been much pranking going on recently, and in his opinion things needed a slight…boost. He got the feeling that she was going to bring hell into Coulson's life.

"Five" she smiled evilly.

"So what happens now?"

"Now" she answered, "Now it's your turn."

"My turn?"

"Oh yeah" she replied, a mischievous glint in her eyes again. "Don't think I'm doing this on my own."

He swallowed.

She paused and looked at him with a raised eyebrow, and he could almost see her questioning his ability. "Everyone in this place says that you are the ultimate prank king, and I don't know if you remember, but a few weeks back we agreed to team up next time we do this…" she brushed her hair out of her face, and stared up at him with determination. "So Agent Barton, are you up to the task?"

If she was planning something huge, proper huge, which he had a horrible feeling she was, then Clint knew full well they would get into so much shit for it. But then again, he as a team they would be able to cover their tracks better.

"Okay" he grinned. "I'm in. What's the next step?"

"Your mission is as follows…"

His grin spread as she relayed the full plan, and he realised just how much fun they were going to have.

#

Phil stared into his bathroom mirror and groaned. He was back in his flat, having skipped the paperwork tonight in favour of getting back as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, four showers later and his hair was still purple. Granted, it wasn't as bright as it had been earlier that evening, but it was still bad.

He racked his brains thinking of who else it could have been. Nobody had a grudge against him (that he knew of), so it wouldn't have been personal. He wasn't involved in any prank wars himself, so it wasn't revenge. This left him with the only option being that he was the target of somebody's own idea of fun. Despite him being completely unable to prove it, he was pretty sure that Clint Barton had something to do with it, and if not him, then it must have been May. It had to. Sure, other agents carried out pranks, but those two knew him personally, meaning they had access. But they had also known his combination, and as far as he was aware, neither of his rookies knew how much he liked Steve Rogers…

_It could have been worse _he reasoned with himself as he headed off to make himself something for dinner. At least he still had hair… the assailant could have been really mean and put something into his shampoo that made his hair fall out. Or they could have dyed his skin. Or made him come out in a rash or something. No, purple hair was bearable. And it would go away. Eventually. If it didn't do so soon though, he knew he may have to dye it back to a more natural colour.

He rolled his shirt sleeves up, and set about preparing some pasta; the rhythm of cooking meaning he soon had forgotten his issues. Cooking relaxed him; it was a skill he had learnt from his mother when he was a boy. Growing up, his family home had been constantly filled with the aroma of various breads baking, there had often been something marinating in spices in a glass bowl on the side, and his mother was always experimenting with new recipes. It was something she had taught him from a young age, and whilst he didn't have her flair or natural talent, it was still an activity he thoroughly enjoyed.

Just as he was serving out a portion (leaving some left over to freeze for a later date – another trick he'd learnt), his phone began to ring. Typical timing as usual. He reached over the chair and grabbed it out of his jacket pocket, checking the caller ID: _Nick Fury. _

Fury didn't ring agents after hours unless something important was happening, so Phil answered with a combination of curiosity and anxiety.

"Sir?"

"Coulson. I want to speak to you tomorrow. My office. 9am."

"Of course Sir…" Phil replied, his mind whirring with all the possibilities of what he wanted. "Can I ask what it's about?"

"I want an update on Agent May's progress."

"Oh." _Could that really be all? _Phil had a feeling it wasn't, but he knew he'd probably have to wait until tomorrow to find out what else was going on.

"Okay?"

"Yes Sir, I'll be there at 9."

"Good. See you then."

Fury hung up the phone, and Phil stared at the screen for a few minutes longer. That had been weird. He put the phone on the work surface behind him, and began to eat his tea. As he chewed, he thought the call through a little bit more. Nick Fury was a mystery half the time anyway, so in a way it wasn't really unlike him.

Ten minutes later and he had finished, and he threw the bowls and pans into the dishwasher, before heading out of the room.

Passing the mirror in the hallway however, he froze in dismay.

He was going to have to show up to a meeting with the head of the academy, sporting bright purple hair.

_Shit shit shit. _

#

Melinda frowned at the textbooks in front of her, and sighed. Give her a punch bag, or a sparring match, or something physical to do, any day. But writing academic papers? Not really her style.

It was almost 10pm, and she was sat in the academy library with Maria Hill, the two of them working on their most recent medical assessments. All agents had to know first aid, because chances were whilst on a mission, agents would get injured in the field and require immediate treatment from those around them. Sure, they weren't asking her to learn how to perform surgery, but she had to know how to cleanse and stitch up wounds properly, had to be able to recognise blood loss and it's severity after a certain level, and she needed to be able to splint broken bones properly.

The assignment tonight, was to write 3000 words on the varying symptoms of head injuries, how to recognise them, and how to deal with each individually without causing further damage. There would be a practical assessment in a few months, and they would then be retested every half year, but for now, their work was solely academic.

May yawned and glanced over at Maria.

She'd only known her a few weeks, but already she knew that Maria was going to be an excellent agent. Determined and focused, Melinda could see her doing well running operations, or working in the communications division. They hadn't trained physically together yet, but Natasha had mentioned that she was good with handling weapons too. Hill was halfway through her third page of writing, and didn't look like she was going to stop anytime soon. Melinda looked back at her own paper, where she had written just over one side of A4. She sighed again. It was going to be a long night.

Flicking through the pages of the textbook in front of her, she stopped on a paragraph about blood loss through various orifices, and decided that it would be of some use.

"How is it I can't even remember this lecture?" May muttered under her breath.

"Because," Maria replied without glancing up. "You and Barton spent the entire first hour trying to make a paper airplane that was strong enough and waterproof enough to hold liquid, and then you spent the second hour debating how, if you actually succeeded, you would be able to get it to fly to the front of the class and pour water all over the tutor's desk."

May smirked. _Oh yeah, that had been it._

"Ah."

Maria looked up at her for a moment, and May had a feeling she was about to receive a lecture on ignoring vital class information.

"What have you got so far?"

She was pleasantly surprised, and smiled slightly before picking her partial-essay up off the desk and reading through it.

"I've done an introduction, a paragraph on swelling and lumps etc., and I was going to write something about blood?"

"Okay. Well that's all right so don't worry, you just need to talk about the blood loss itself, where it comes from, and how to determine where in the head the injury is, based on the blood itself."

"When it comes from the ears, if it is bright red, then it implies there is a surface injury, such as skull fracture or bruising, whereas if it is watery then it's an internal issue, such as possible hematoma of the brain tissue" May said suddenly, the information coming back to her.

Maria nodded with a small smile.

"See, in some way you were listening."

"I guess so…"

Half an hour later and Maria had finished her essay, whilst May was around three-quarters done. She had the feeling that Maria was waiting around so she wasn't the only one left in the library.

"You can go if you want you know?"

"Are you sure?" Maria asked.

May nodded.

"Thanks for all the help."

Maria smiled, and packed her things away, standing to leave. As she walked past May, she paused, and turned back around.

"If you ever find out how to make that plane work, I want to be there to see it in action."

Melinda grinned as the other agent left the room. She was academic, and intelligent, and she paid attention in class, but maybe she had a fun side too…


	8. Chapter 8

He actually got out of bed early and washed his hair a further three times the next morning, but Phil could not get rid of the purple. Damn. If it was a cold day, he may have been able to get away with wearing a hat and hiding his hair. Unfortunately, being mid-April, it was not.

Typical.

It was also Sunday. Usually, Sundays were the only day in the week they got off. There were no classes, and everyone could do as they pleased. The fact Nick Fury wanted to see him on a Sunday meant something important. He wouldn't call him in just to discuss his rookie's progress either. No, it was something else.

Luckily, the roads were quiet as he drove his bright red '62 Chevrolet Corvette through the streets. The car was his pride and joy – having saved up for almost two years to be able to get her (it was a _her_, no question about it), he had then spent months restoring her to her former glory. Phil wasn't a materialistic person, but nobody touched his car. And anyway, it wasn't as though she were a regular vehicle; over the past few months, he'd been looking into improving the car with various pieces of S.H.I.E.L.D technology designed by non-other than Howard Stark. In particular, he had his mind set on one day being able to make her fly. He smiled as he drove, the idea of a flying car seeming both ludicrous, and extremely appealing. Thanks to a semi-drunken afternoon of planning and messing around with Garrett and Hand last year, the car already had built in guns that would reveal at the touch of a button. The down-side to that being he couldn't exactly get them out to test when he was driving through a suburban estate…

* * *

"It's for…it's for charity, Sir…"

Phil had no idea he was going to say that when Fury asked him about the hair. It had just…come out. And as soon as he said it he regretted it, but he was going to roll with it nonetheless. He was sat in a leather armchair in Nick Fury's office, having arrived only around five minutes previously. Fury was sat opposite him, behind a massive glass desk. It was ostentatious and looked more decorative than practical. He didn't particularly like it.

Fury responded simply with a look that told him he knew full well he was talking shit.

"Charity. Which charity?"

"A…ermm…that would be for –"

"Yeah, cut the crap Coulson. You were pranked."

Phil blinked, and felt the back of his neck heat up. "Ah, um, yes Sir."

"By who?"

"I…" he didn't particularly want to get anyone in trouble over it. It was a harmless prank. "I'm not sure Sir."

"Barton" Fury said. It wasn't a question; he himself knew about the kid's reputation.

"Well, the thing is Sir, he kind of has an alibi…"

Fury leant back in his chair.

"May?"

"So does she."

"And you think they're telling the truth?"

Phil hadn't really believed a word of what they had told him, but he couldn't prove otherwise. He also knew that Fury didn't believe a word he'd just said. He simply looked at him, and Fury sighed.

"This is the second time isn't it?"

"Yes Sir."

The first time had been when he was level 1. He had woken up one morning with his hair spray-painted pink; how he had slept through it happening he did not know. That seemed like a lifetime ago now, despite it only being a few years.

"Never mind the hair Coulson" Fury said, resting his hands on the edge of his desk. "Just don't let it happen again."

Phil nodded. He could try, but rookie agents were ruthless…

"I want an update on Agent May's progress."

"She's doing very well Sir" Phil replied as honestly as he could, glad for the change of topic. "She's training hard in her free time, up to now she has full attendance, and she seems to have settled in well…"

Fury nodded slightly, and then glanced at a document on the desk in front of him. "According to her assignment scores" he said, tapping the page with his thumb, "She is only just scraping a pass in a couple of classes."

Phil frowned. He only received class updates at the end of each semester, whereas Fury would have access at all times. "Which ones?"

"Medical, and History of S.H.I.E.L.D."

"The ones she shares with Barton" Phil muttered with a groan, running his hand backwards through his hair and glancing upwards.

"Exactly."

"I'll talk to her about it."

Fury nodded. "Good. She's a promising agent; she doesn't want to throw that away for the sake of having a few laughs." He glanced back at Phil's hair, with a knowing look.

"No, Sir."

The conversation fell to silence, and Phil glanced around feeling slightly awkward. The soft hum of air-conditioning was the only noise in the office, and he momentarily wondered if the room was sound-proofed – after all, there was an entire academy of trainee agents on the floors below, but he couldn't hear anything.

"Was there anything else Sir?" he asked, standing from the leather armchair he had spent the last twenty minutes in.

Fury scrutinised him carefully for a couple of seconds, before seeming to decide on something.

"Are you aware that Agent Garrett is currently on a mission?"

"No Sir, I thought he didn't leave until Tuesday" Phil replied, sitting back down slowly.

"He was sent early. The details of which I am about to tell you, are classified for level 5 and above only."

"I understand."

Fury stood, and began to pace slowly around his office. Phil had been here before, and he knew it was a sign he was about to be told a long story.

"Three weeks ago, S.H.I.E.L.D received intelligence that a person, or group of, was smuggling illegally adapted firearms across the borders of Uruguay and Argentina. These firearms were adapted with technology that is only possessed by the companies of the US Federation for Creative Science and Engineering. S.H.I.E.L.D is a member of that federation, and obviously this information is troubling to say the least. Agent Garrett, alongside Agent Blake, has been assigned to visit the border site and go undercover as a bent patrol agent. He is to take bribes from those attempting to get the weapons across the border, and alert a separate field team, who will take them in once they have crossed to the other side."

Phil sat in silence as Fury spoke. Everything made sense, except for why he was being told this information. Fury returned to his desk and shuffled through the papers, before handing one over.

"Garrett arrived on site this morning, and he suggested that you have previously come into contact with one of the suspects – a Damien Lackwell?"

Phil took the paper, and looked at the profile and record of the man in front of him. He did recognise him.

"Yes Sir, a couple of years ago myself and Agent Hand were on a surveillance operation out in Nebraska. He became known to us, and I conducted an interview with him to try and gain some intelligence."

"And it worked?"

"He did give us some information, yes." Phil didn't have to think for long to remember everything he needed about the case. He was pretty good at remembering details from previous missions – Victoria had always said it was like a superpower how easily he could recall insignificant details. "Lackwell was just a pawn in a much larger game. He was working for somebody else, somebody we never managed to get, and he was afraid of them too. But after a while he seemed to realise that I was his best option, and he began talking."

"Good. He is currently in S.H.I.E.L.D custody in Argentina, and he is not saying a word. I want you to go and speak to him. You have the history, the rapport. Build that back up, and see what you can get."

Phil wanted to grin. He'd been hoping for a mission for a while now, and one had just fallen into his lap.

"When do I leave?"

"As soon as you get rid of that hair dye."

Phil could have sworn Fury almost smiled.

* * *

Having spent her Saturday night stuck in the library writing a medical assignment, Melinda hadn't planned to spend her Sunday off there too. But when she awoke that morning, she realised with a slight pang of annoyance that she had lost her phone. And chances were, it was back in the library, as that was the last place she remembered using it. She'd been texting Jasper, trying to arrange a date when the two could meet up for coffee or something, but neither seemed to have time off when the other did. She sighed to herself; she knew moving academies was a big change, but she hadn't really thought about the fact she may lose him as a friend through it. Especially as the only reason she had left was because of the trouble they had got into, together.

Then again, she thought, as she stood in the elevator heading up three floors to where the library was situated, becoming a S.H.I.E.L.D agent would mean plenty of friendships would be lost, attachments would be broken, and relationships were non-existent. It was a side-effect of the job, she knew that, but it seemed like a lonely lifestyle.

It didn't take long to find her phone once she arrived at the library. There was nobody on reception, but she just climbed over the front desk anyway and had a rummage through all the various drawers she could see. Her phone was sat in the little 'Lost and Found' box at the back of one of them, so she grabbed it and clambered back over. She headed out and towards the elevator again, jabbing the "down" button multiple times in the hope it would arrive faster. She was hungry, and decided to go to the coffee shop around the corner for breakfast.

She let her mind wander as she waited. _Considering this is a S.H.I.E.L.D academ_y, she thought, _they could at least invent some kind of super-fast lift system or teleportation device or something to get from place to place quicker_…

The lift eventually arrived on her floor and the doors slid open to reveal – Phil Coulson standing there looking just as bored as she felt.

"May, hello" he said, watching her as she entered and came to stand next to him, the steel doors sliding shut behind her. She was dressed down, in grey joggers and a red vest top, with her hair thrown back in a simple pony-tail, and her phone in one hand, but even so…

"Hey" she smiled.

"What floor would you like?" He sounded overly polite, and chastised himself internally for…well for being an idiot really.

"Ground floor, Agent Coulson" she smirked.

"Coming up" he smiled. Same floor as himself.

"So, what are you doing wandering around here on your day off?" she glanced up at him. "I mean, even SO's and higher level agents get Sundays off, right?"

"Yeah we do normally, but I had a meeting with Fury."

"On a Sunday, must have been about something important…"

He looked at her in a way that told her to stop asking questions.

"Alright I get it." Melinda rolled her eyes. "Confidential."

He sighed a bit. "I'm going on a mission, but…well I can't really talk about it."

"Fair enough. When do you go?"

He was surprised she didn't pry into the mission details; obviously she was more keyed in to S.H.I.E.L.D protocol and keeping things on the quiet than he had appreciated.

"Tomorrow, I think, so you and Barton will have to train alone for a while." He stole a glance in her direction, and he could have sworn she almost looked slightly disappointed.

"Okay."

Silence fell over them, and unlike his expectations, it wasn't awkward at all. But still, he decided to carry on talking.

"When I was with Fury before, we spoke about you for a bit too."

"Really?" She was genuinely interested, and slightly confused at the same time.

"How're you finding your classes?" Phil continued, and she could see him watching her from the corner of her eye.

"They're fine."

"Really?" he looked back over to her, but she was facing the doors. "Are you…do you…"

"Coulson…"

"Are you struggling in your History of S.H.I.E.L.D class?"

She looked at him and sighed. "Fury has my grades doesn't he?"

Phil just nodded.

"It's fine, I just…I've done these classes before you know? So I'd rather be -"

"- You'd rather be doing something you see as useful, like practicing on the punch bag" Phil finished for her.

The lift came to a stop, and the doors opened for them.

"Exactly."

"I get that" he said, as they both walked down the entrance hallway. "I just… Fury doesn't want you falling behind or getting distracted whilst you're here."

"Distracted?"

"You share that class, and Medical, with Barton, no?"

The smirk she suddenly had on her face confirmed his theory.

"May, seriously, you could be a really good agent" he could feel his ears getting pink, but he continued anyway. "Don't lose it, and keep up with the work you know…?"

"Alright alright!" she turned to glance back at him. "Keep your hair on" she added with a smirk, and a furtive look up at the purple strands grazing his head.

"That's not funny."

She stopped in front of him before turning round to face him, and she had the biggest grin on her face. "Yeah it was, and you know it."

He looked at her for a few moments, absorbing the smile, realising he had never seen her so relaxed and so…playful. It was a lovely sight. A small voice popped into the back of his mind, and he knew full well that he'd dye his hair purple everyday if it made her smile at him like that. He found himself inexplicably nodding in agreement.

"Good, I thought so" she said, apparently oblivious to his moment of hazy madness, and turned away to carry on walking again.

_Get a grip Phil _he told himself, and not for the first time.

"What else did Fury want to know about me?"

"He was just interested to know how you were doing here in general, how you'd settled in and such."

Melinda paused for a moment. "What did you tell him?"

"That you're a pain in the ass."

She grinned and punched him on the arm for that. It didn't hurt, but he had to admit he was slightly surprised by the force behind it – she was definitely a lot stronger than she looked.

"No, I just told him the truth" he chuckled. "Said I thought you were doing well, very well in fact."

"Much better."

* * *

_As usual, I don't own Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D or Marvel etc._

_Thank you for the views, favourites, reviews, and follows up to now! It means so much! _

_Please review to let me know what you think of the story so far, I love seeing the opinions of you guys!_


	9. Chapter 9

"So," May said, as they walked down the campus steps and into the street outside. "How long are you going to be away for?"

"I'm not sure" he admitted, glancing back over to her. "Could be anywhere from a couple of days to a few weeks."

Phil watched as she nodded, seemingly deep in thought.

"Can you and Barton keep training together and stay out of trouble?"

"Of course we can." She looked back over with a sly grin. "We'll work extra hard whilst you're gone, don't worry."

"See, that's the problem, I do worry."

She tutted and rolled her eyes at him, feigning hurt.

"I find that slightly offensive."

"Good, I meant it."

"Hey!" she punched him again, and they shared another smile, coming to a stop in front of his car.

"Is this yours?" May asked. She shouldn't have been surprised that he had such vintage taste, not when she knew full well he collected Captain America memorabilia.

"Yeah, she's mine" he replied, and she couldn't help but notice the slight hint of pride that had filled his voice as he spoke.

"She?" May raised an eye-brow, and Phil watched as her lips curved into another smirk.

"Yeah, I mean, I think so anyway, she feels like a she." Stop babbling he told himself.

May wandered slowly around the car, trailing her fingers across the shiny red paintwork. She had to admit, it was actually pretty nice. It was spotless, with a fold down soft-top roof, and smooth leather seats. It would only fit 2 people.

"So" May continued, turning back to face him. "If it's a she, have you named her?"

It was his turn to raise his eyebrows at her. "Named her?"

"Yeah, you know, like people name ships and stuff?" She looked at him like she was talking complete sense.

"Erm, no, I hadn't really thought about a name."

"You should."

Their eyes met across the car once more.

"Any suggestions?"

She smiled again, and walked back round to where he was stood.

"I'll think of something."

"Okay," he swallowed. He could feel warmth radiating from her arm as she stood next to him, and he was overcome with the urge to lean slightly closer. He moved away instead, opening the car door. "Do you, uhh, you need a lift anywhere?" He said, climbing into the driver's seat.

"No that's alright, thanks, I'm only going round the corner for coffee."

"Okay."

They smiled at each other. Again. In the whole time he'd been training her, he was pretty sure she hadn't smiled as much as she had in the past twenty minutes. Phil wondered briefly when he'd begun to keep count, but he didn't know. He was watching her eyes – he couldn't help it – they were so big and emotive and beautiful…until she cleared her throat and shifted her gaze to his car again.

"Well," Phil coughed slightly, internally chastising himself for what felt like the hundredth time that morning. "Train properly and keep up with your classes okay?"

She rolled her eyes at him in response as he started the engine.

"And don't do anything…stupid" he warned, trying to look as stern as possible.

She simply smiled innocently back at him.

"No problem Chief…and good luck getting that dye out."

He ran his hand through his hair, mentally reminding himself to buy some brown dye. He pulled out of his parking space and began to drive away.

In his rear-view mirror, he could see that she was smirking again. Phil hadn't even left the campus yet, and already he had a feeling something was going to go wrong.

* * *

May found herself smiling as she entered the little café around ten minutes later. A warm aroma of sweet coffee drifted across to her whilst she stood in line, tapping her nails on the counter and waiting impatiently to order. She hadn't realised how hungry she was, having been slightly distracted for a while instead. Coulson was nice, she had to admit it. He was nice in that sweet, kind of dorky way, the total opposite to her, she knew that – she was slightly sarcastic and a bit snarky and she tended to enjoy her own company – but she also had a feeling he liked her a little bit more than maybe a Supervising Officer should like their rookie. Every time she glanced at him he seemed to be watching her intensely, like he knew her, but despite what she kept telling herself, she found getting drawn into his blue eyes easy. She did like him, that much she couldn't deny. But May wasn't sure in what way, not yet.

Her old SO had been a bit of a cranky bitch in all honesty, and seeing how well she was getting on with Coulson, May wondered why on earth she had been nervous about moving academies.

She reached the front of the line, and ordered herself a coffee and sweet almond pastry – screw the healthy eating for today; it was after all, Sunday, and she was craving something sugary.

As she waited for her order to be called out, she found herself thinking about Coulson again, but this time in a different way. So, her SO was heading off on a mission, possibly for a couple of weeks. Barton was going to be thrilled. It would give them a chance to get going on the prank front, enabling them to have some fun before Mr. Rules and Regulations returned to stop them.

Collecting her food, she turned to leave, when a flash of red hair caught her eye, and she looked over to see Natasha watching her from a table on the far side. She waved at May, and gestured for her to join her, so she wandered over and took the seat opposite.

"You seem happy" Natasha remarked, and May wondered how obvious her smiling had been. "What were you thinking about?"

"Nothing much" she shrugged. "Coulson's going away for a bit, and I thought it'd give us a chance to have some fun."

Natasha smirked at her. "Clint will be very happy."

"Oh, I know."

"You're similar to each other, you know?" Natasha continued. "You and Clint? You're like brother and sister in the way you bicker and laugh and are constantly plotting various methods of destruction." She grinned at the latter of the sentence, clearly happy to see the two of them attempt to cause chaos.

May listened to her with a smile. Having grown up as an only child, she'd never known what it was like to have a sibling relationship. But hearing Natasha say it now, she knew she was right. It was nice to have friends she could be herself with.

"He's a good guy" she simply replied.

"I know."

May smirked at the fondness in her voice. She knew full well how close Natasha and Clint were; they definitely did not have a sibling-like relationship. And despite it being against protocol, she wasn't going to be the one to stop them if they decided to cross that line one day. After all, it wasn't as though she had never been with another agent, even if just casually…

The two chatted some more as they ate their respective breakfasts – Natasha had some kind of fruit muffin, which, whilst it might have sounded so, probably was no healthier than May's almond-icing covered pastry.

"We should spar again sometime" Natasha added after a while. "That first day you were here? I enjoyed that."

"Same" May replied. "It was the first time I felt properly challenged in a while."

They smiled at each other. Despite how little they talked, May felt at ease with Natasha, and Natasha felt the same. The two of them had their own reputations for being fearless, strong and warrior-like, and together they would probably make a pretty fearsome duo.

"You know, if we teamed up sometime we could really kick some ass."

May laughed. "Agreed."

They both drank their coffee some more, before Natasha changed the subject.

"Are you planning to specialise?"

May looked at her as she considered her answer. Agents could specialise if they wished to, and whilst they could do so at any time in their careers, it was usually something that was decided whilst they were still at their respective academies.

She did want to specialise, that much she knew, and there was one thing she wanted to do that she hadn't told anyone else before. Somehow though, it felt right discussing it with the Russian warrior opposite.

"I want to work in operations, that much is 100%" May said, spinning her coffee cup around in circles as she spoke. "But something I've wanted to do for a while now, is fly."

"You want to fly?" The incredulous look on Natasha's face told May she had definitely misunderstood what she meant, and she fought back a laugh as she explained.

"I want a full pilot's license, to be able to actually fly the aircraft we travel to missions on, as opposed to just being a passenger."

"Oh, that makes more sense" Natasha replied with a smile. "Have you flown before?"

May nodded as she took a bite of her pastry, relishing the sweetness as she chewed. "Last year, I was on a team that took down a few hostiles out near New Jersey. Flying back, the pilot had some kind of stroke, it was awful actually…" she added with a frown, recalling the memory. "Anyway, nobody else could fly the damn thing, and we had to be talked down step-by-step by some guy at S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters. I volunteered to take over the controls and follow the instructions they relayed."

"And you did it?" May would have gone as far as to say Natasha looked impressed.

"Yeah, apparently I was a natural" she grinned. "I loved it too, despite the circumstances, and as soon as we landed I swore I was going to get a full license."

"You should do it; it'd be a really useful skill to have."

"I don't know if Fury would let me."

"Ask him, I don't see why not. I mean, it'd always be good to have more than one person on a mission who could control the plane."

May nodded slowly in agreement as she finished her coffee. Maybe it was time she finally did something about it.

* * *

The next morning, Coulson awoke early, simply showering and grabbing some toast before he left. He'd packed the previous evening, having been not too sure of what he would require, so he'd added a selection of shirts, trousers and spare shoes. If he was solely interviewing their suspect, he could stay in his usual shirt + tie combination. However, if he were to go undercover as one of the border patrol agents with Garrett, he would more than likely need to wear a uniform. Which they would provide. Regardless, that was something he wouldn't find out about until he arrived later that day.

Glancing in the mirror as he headed out of the door, he actually smiled at his reflection. He'd finally got rid of the purple dye – the previous afternoon, after he had left May and driven off, he'd visited a local supermarket and managed to find a box of brown dye in a colour he hoped was similar to his own natural colour. Having never purposefully used hair-dye before, he'd spent a while frowning over the instructions, and, ignoring the advice to test it on his skin 48 hours in advance (he didn't exactly have time to waste), he proceeded to just put it on all over and hope for the best. He'd spent the night silently praying he didn't react to it – that would be even worse than being stuck with purple. Fortunately, it had worked, and he was back to what he hoped looked like his natural hair.

He threw his bags into the boot of the car, and climbed into the driver's seat. It was raining slightly, in typical April fashion, so he had to leave the roof up, much to his annoyance. He liked driving and feeling the wind on his face as he went, the crisp coolness much more refreshing than any of that fake air-conditioning cars nowadays were all manufactured with. Another reason he loved his Chevrolet.

As Phil drove, he switched on the radio, deciding to have some kind of music on in the background. At least with the roof up, he would be able to hear it, and he was going to be driving for at least two hours before he reached the nearest airport. From there he was flying to Argentina, and a S.H.I.E.L.D vehicle would collect him from the airport.

The first station he tuned into was playing none other than 'Purple Rain', by Prince. He could have laughed at the irony, having just got the dye out. He listened for a while, enjoying the melody, but as much as he liked the song, it wasn't really a driving anthem. He wanted something with a more… rock-ish feel.

Phil flicked to the next station. Listening to the music, he quickly realised that it was also playing 'Purple Rain'. He frowned. What were the chances of two stations playing the exact same song at the same time?

Slim.

So he flicked over again. And groaned. That too was playing the song.

As was the next.

No matter which station he tuned the radio into, it began playing 'Purple Rain'. He jabbed at a few buttons, tried the volume, tried to switch it over to the cassette player. No matter what he did, it played the same.

"Dammit" he growled, shutting off the radio. Either his car was malfunctioning, or somebody had been messing around with the electronics, and had managed to programme each frequency to the same song. He wasn't sure how. His car remained locked in the garage of his block when it wasn't parked at the academy, and he was pretty sure the radio had been working the other day.

That was two pranks in a week. And clearly both by the same person, based on the association between the song and his hair.

Three guesses who.

* * *

_Please review and let me know what you think!_


	10. Chapter 10

_Sorry it took so long to get this chapter out, I've had complete writing block when it came to this story._

_As usual, I don't own AoS or Marvel etc._

* * *

"Request granted."

May looked at Fury in surprise. When she'd come to his office that morning with a request to be put forward for flying school, she'd expected some kind of resistance. Something revolving around her prank history or the fact she had only been there a few weeks and he didn't know if she would be right for the role. But without hesitation, he had accepted her application, no qualms.

"Really?" She wanted to laugh with happiness. "Thank you Sir."

Fury nodded, and indicated for her to take a seat. She did so almost warily, having been in the office only once previously in the time she'd been there, and having not spoken to him since. The soft leather of the chair made her feely slightly more at ease, and she watched as Fury leant back in his own chair to observe her carefully. He was silent for a while, and beginning to feel slightly like she was under scrutiny, she glanced around the office instead of meeting his eye.

Considering he was the leader of the academy, and a high authority figure within S.H.I.E.L.D, there was very little of sentimental value on display. He must have been through an extreme number of experiences during his time as a field agent, but there was nothing in the room to indicate any sort of attachment to the facility or his life. She guessed that maybe it was something agents learned over time – to not become attached to materialistic possessions. It was certainly bare. There were no photographs of him with friends or family members, no pretentious artwork on display to show off to visitors, no useless trinkets littering the shelves around her. It was a stark contrast to Coulson's office, which she knew from her brief exploration a couple of months back, was filled with his collection of memorabilia dedicated to Steve Rogers. At least that room felt lived in. This office felt almost sterile.

She glanced back to Fury, and found him watching her take in their surroundings carefully.

"Boring, isn't it?" he asked quietly. She wasn't sure whether it was rude to agree or not.

"It's very minimalist" she finally said, deciding that was the most polite way of putting it. It seemed to be the right answer.

"Keeps the mind focused when there are no outlying distractions."

She nodded. Somehow, it felt like he wasn't just talking about his taste in décor.

"But I know you're not here to discuss interior design Agent May" he continued quietly. "Your request to join the flying school has come at an interesting time. Recent developments and events within the organisation, including your little taste of flying with an unconscious pilot, have led to multiple discussions and decisions being made as to the abilities of future agents. As the age of technology advances, it brings not only an infinite number of possibilities for assisting us with our fight, but also a great many problems. Technology presents as much of a threat to us as it does help us."

May listened intently, not all too sure where he was heading, but feeling interested all the same. As soon as he'd said she could learn to pilot, she'd known it was exactly the right thing for her to be doing.

"The autopilot system is being used more and more frequently" Fury continued, leaning forwards and placing both hands on the edge of his glass desk. "But this means that there is a much higher chance of it being hijacked in technological terms."

"You're talking about cybernetic attacks?"

"Yes. I'm talking about signals being released that jam the radio channels; I'm talking about viruses being implanted within the actual electronic systems on the aircraft. It's a bigger and more realistic danger now because of the reliance on such technology growing. So," Fury stood from his chair, and began pacing his office slowly. "It has been decided that as of next year, all new cadets will be trained in basic aeronautic skills. Each agent will take level 1 flying lessons, and will be examined on the components and technical requirements needed to take off and land aircraft."

May sat back and absorbed what he was saying. It made sense. Flying that plane without any training had been terrifying, and she hated to think what could have happened if they had been unable to get through on the radio to ask for help. Having all agents trained even just to a basic level, was a logical decision.

"It's a good idea, Sir."

"As you are not a first year, this wouldn't usually be offered to you. But as you've requested it I see no issues at all. Would you be willing to start next week?"

"Next week?!" May raised her eyebrows in surprise. She couldn't believe she'd be learning that soon – she'd thought it would have been at least a month before she'd even be able to get onto the course.

"Yes Agent May, and if you have the natural ability to fly, like those involved in your last _adventure _say you do, then by the time next year's intake enter the flying school I expect you to be well on your way to becoming a fully qualified pilot. If you start now, it will be quiet, and you'll receive one-on-one training with the instructors. Next year each lesson will have multiple students."

It was a good deal, definitely, but it seemed almost too good to be true.

"What's the catch?"

The look he gave told her she'd been right thinking it wasn't going to be so easy.

"I wouldn't call it a catch as such" he replied, turning to face her from where he stood by the large windows overlooking campus. "Flying school would have to be fit around your schedule, which I am aware is currently quite full. It would therefore eat up your evenings and free time at weekends. If you do this then you are committed to it."

That seemed acceptable to her. She'd known it wasn't going to just be handed to her. But could she cope with having no free time at all?

"What about the extra training I'm doing with my SO?" she asked. If this was eating into her evenings, when would she train?

"I shall inform Agent Coulson of your new role, but I expect your training with him to continue. You may have to do so on Sundays, you may have to do so at night, but I don't want to see a drop in your grades or attendance. Chances are, he'll have to run separate sessions sometimes for each of yourself and Agent Barton, but it needs to be done."

She exhaled slowly. He was right. It wasn't going to be easy to keep up with everything, and she'd never been an academic overachiever anyway. But if she wanted it, she'd have to make it work. Anyway, one on one training with Coulson wouldn't be so bad…

"Can you cope with the extra-workload?"

"Yes Sir," she smiled, "I'm in."

* * *

Phil watched as John ordered a third bottle of beer, and groaned. The bar they were in was small, with only about ten tables set out across the stone floor, each one occupied. The walls surrounding them were littered with photographs and memorabilia of various old school movie stars and singers, and a sign in the corner informed them that Friday night would feature an ABBA tribute band. Phil made a mental note to avoid the place that night. The rest of the room was dimly lit, with small yellow-glowing lamps placed on each table and across the bar, and a fan spun lazily across the ceiling. Despite it being past nine, it was still warm out, and it was humid too, so the fan provided some much needed cool relief – as did the ice-cold drinks in front of them.

The two had finished their fourth day together in Argentina, and had finally got somewhere with the mission they were on. Multiple illegally modified weapons had been recovered, thanks to John's undercover guise seeming believable enough to those who offered bribes to pass the checkpoint without search; however there had been no evidence to confirm who was orchestrating the movement.

Phil had spent most of his time during the last few days divided between liaising with Argentinian police, and sitting in a small interrogation room opposite from his main suspect. Lackwell had in fairness opened up a lot more since Phil's arrival, and Fury had been right in thinking that the previous rapport the two had built up would result in him being the most _qualified _as such to talk to the man. However, one thing Phil had noticed was that this time around, Lackwell not only appeared to be more determined to not spill, but also he seemed more afraid. Phil couldn't get him to say who it was he was scared of however, but he had high suspicions whoever was organising the trade had threatened each of the men they had pulled into custody, and none were prepared to give the name up any time soon. He also doubted that Lackwell was going to give him the name at all.

He sighed and took a gulp of his own beer. It was light and refreshing, and he could feel himself beginning to relax slightly in the chilled atmosphere.

"Should you be having another one of those?" he muttered, gesturing to the lager in Garrett's glass.

"Hey, it's good stuff remember."

"I remember" Phil replied, "I also remember how strong it is. You recall that mission in Peru?"

"Not really" he grinned, gulping down some more.

"Exactly." Phil tried not to smirk. "That's because you drank five pints of it and got so wasted I practically ended up dragging you back to the hotel."

John grinned and gave him a wink. "Good night though."

"No it wasn't."

Phil distinctly recalled not only feeling like he was babysitting a fully grown and extremely drunken man, but also spending several hours trying to convince Garrett that taking two waitresses from the local pizza place they had been to back to the hotel with them in order to _"show them our badges",_ was not generally considered an acceptable way for S.H.I.E.L.D agents on a mission to spend their evening. Especially as Phil and John were supposed to be sharing a room; Phil had had no desire whatsoever to be privy to _that _sort of action.

John snorted a laugh, as though he knew exactly what Phil was thinking about.

"You need to lighten up Phil" he chortled, downing the rest of his pint in a loud gulp. "Have a few more drinks, let loose a little, break the rules for once."

"You sound like May and Barton" Phil groaned. "They live like rules are made to be broken."

"Your rookies have some sense then." He caught the attention of the man serving them – a tall Argentinian guy who must have been no older than eighteen – and motioned for another round to be brought out. Phil shook his head, knowing exactly how the evening was going to end up, and dreading the next morning when he'd have to return to interview Lackwell slightly hung-over.

He also couldn't help but notice that the guy behind the bar seemed to have been listening rather intently to their conversation, and he mentally reminded himself that discussions of missions and the illegal arms trade were probably not common place in a small family-run place like the one they were in. As talking in a lower volume was out of the question with John, who didn't have a quiet bone in his body, Phil decided they'd needed to change the subject before they drew attention to themselves. It didn't help being dressed in shirts and suit pants, whilst all the locals wore simply vest tops and shorts. They stuck out like a sore thumb.

"How's puppy-walking going anyway?" Garrett asked, once the man had served them and walked away.

"Good" he replied, pushing his bottle around the table in front of him. "Although they know how to wind me up."

"Barton been up to his pranking again?"

"Well, last week I showered and ended up with purple hair, and then my car radio was hijacked to play the same song over and over again."

"Wish I'd seen that hair" he grinned. "And you think it was him?"

"Well, I'm pretty sure it was either him or May, although I've got no proof."

"In that case" Garrett looked at him with a smirk. "You need to get them back."

Phil stared at him. He'd never really been an instigator in pranking when he was lower level, but now he was a level 5 supervising officer it seemed even more insane.

"I can't…not now. Fury has trusted me with them."

"He doesn't have to know, and anyway, he's hardly likely to suspect you, that's what's so great about it."

He thought about it. It would be good to wipe the smug smiles off of their faces just once.

"Go on then" he agreed, knowing full well he was going to regret this decision in the months to come.

"Brilliant. I'll drink to that!"

They clinked their bottles together, and Phil's mind began to whir with possibilities.

* * *

"You're going to flying school? Okay, I am officially jealous!" Barton was listening with a look of awe on his face as May relayed how her meeting with Fury the previous day had gone. The two of them were in the gym area, along with Natasha and Maria. They were supposed to be training – tonight was another cardio night - but no supervising officer present to tell them what to do during the past week had resulted in a rather lax schedule. So, naturally, the four agents were sprawled out across the crash mats they had decided to use as cushions.

"You could come too?" May replied. Despite this being her dream, it would be nice to have somebody on the course with her that she knew.

Maria on the other hand snorted, and Barton threw a fake scowl her way.

"You'd trust him with a plane? Are you having a laugh?"

"Rude."

"True though."

"Even so" he grinned. "Rude."

Natasha patted his arm in mock comfort. "I think what she means is, you have other talents?"

"No Tash, what she means is, I'll probably steal the plane during the night, joyride it across the country, and bring it back painted in the colours of the rainbow and smelling of popcorn or something."

"That is exactly what I meant" Maria replied deadpan, and they all laughed.

"Seriously though" May carried on once they'd calmed down again. "Fury said that all new agents will be receiving pilot training automatically, starting next enrolment, so soon it's going to be mandatory anyway."

"And everyone will be able to do it except us and higher level agents?" Maria said, shaking her head slightly with a frown.

"Pretty much."

"That seems wrong somehow."

"I know."

"Well" Natasha said brightly, hopping to her feet and heading over to the punch bag, Clint following behind her like a puppy. "It wouldn't hurt to have a little bit of training would it? You reckon he'd let us all into the programme, just till we learnt the basics?"

"I'm sure he'd be thrilled" May grinned back. She could just picture Fury's face when he realised that their flying class could be made up of a Russian assassin-turned-agent with a penchant for deception, a serial prankster with perfect marksman skills and a questionable taste in humour, a studious yet slightly sarcastic and party-loving agent who took shit from no-one, and a trainee who got transferred for choking her old SO half to death with confetti.

They would make one hell of a team


End file.
